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2014.01.17 - Goo-Phase
---- X-Men Base - Science Lab This room is spacious and perfectly circular in shape. The floors are tiled in white marble, and the walls are completely covered in computer terminals, monitors, and many bookshelves worth of reference books. The technology here is all obviously of an advanced level, in keeping with the rest of the complex. In one corner of the room, a ring of computers and more monitors and panels surrounds a large clear tube, which appears to be an isolation chamber for studying different subjects under varying conditions. There is also an advanced chemical laboratory, as well as areas for biology, metallurgy, geology, and just about every other science one can think of, along with a forensic crime lab tucked into one corner. Several fairly small adjoining rooms allow for analysis and experimentation, each of which can be separately sealed off if necessary. The only exit from this room is the doorway to the east, which is a large disc of silver metal embossed with a giant "Circle X" symbol. ---- The science lab is quiet, aside from the quiet whirring, buzzing, and occasional beeping given by the various machines. And a bubbling sound from the corner of the room. There, with a pair of sensors mounted on arms hovering overhead, is a sizeable pile of black goo. The puddle is rising of its own accord, with three appendage-like protrusions slowly forming out of its liquidy mass. As this happens, one of the computers nearby begins to beep rapidly, while complex genetic data begins streaming across its screen. Having been in the Danger Room for a practice session, Jocelyn was planning on heading back to her room to take care of a few things. However, a casual scan of the hallways revealed someone in the science lab. Usually, Jocelyn didn't have a lot of cause to head to the lab very often. However, she had a bit of data she was intending to pull from a few tests run on her recently, and she figured that if nothing else, someone else in there would be a refreshing change. The woman had been somewhat isolated lately, though the rumor going around was that after Genosha and the Harbingers, she'd wanted to make sure she had her powers under control before doing anything stupid. Thus, the girl walks into the lab, intent on getting some data from the computer. "Oh. Hi Kwabena," Jocelyn greets the blob. She'd seen Shift in a number of 'blobby' forms, and there weren't a lot of people at the mansion who could turn into a random blob like that. Easy enough to deduce who it was. Where Rachel's been all day is a mystery, but she returned looking distinctly pleased with herself. That expression, mixed with a bit of curiosity, is still on her face as she walks through the metal corridors beneath the X-Mansion. The novelty of her latest telekinetic trick hasn't /quite/ worn off yet, if it ever will, and so Rachel's on about her third outfit of the day, this one not exactly her usual style: She's wearing a blood-red tank top that partly reveals the Phoenix brand that rides her back, and a slim black maxi skirt that reaches her ankles, while she has a pair of black sneakers on her feet. Breezing in to the Science Lab, she's surprised to see Jocelyn rather than Shift. "Hi Joce..." She just manages to get out, before she processes what the other woman was saying as she entered. "Kwabena?" She asks, brows drawing together as she follows Jocelyn's gaze to the black gooey mess. "...you've looked better." She tells him, recovering quickly. "Please tell me it was intentional this time, and you're not stuck that way?" She asks, crossing over to a clear area of work-surface and boosting herself up to sit on it. "I should've been suspicious when his message didn't say /why/ he wanted me to come down here." Rachel remarks to Jocelyn with a small grin. The answer to Jocelyn's greeting is delayed, for it takes a few seconds for Shift to form a mouth. His voice may sound whispy when in smoke form, and more electrical in nature when he's ignited into plasma. In this state, however, it can best be described as, well... gurgly. "Hellllloo... Shhhoshhallyn." Seems he needs some practice speaking, as well. The sound is coming from a thin separation in the goo, above which form two round spots that just might be eyes. These turn to look at Rachel, and, well... if he were in his flesh state, he'd have probably been smirking. "I thhhouut euuu'd thshake llllooonger." Because if he'd gotten enough practice in, he'd planned on pranking the poor girl. Suddenly, that goo comes rising off the floor, forming into the shape of a man a mere moment before there's a decidedly gross 'sucking' sound as he solidifies. X-Men uniform and all, thank goodness. He reaches up with a gloved hand to scratch at his hear, firmly convinced that there's still some liquid in there. "No. Not stuck. Not dis time, thank God." "Good, and that pronounciation of my name is better than how some people say it," Jocelyn says to Shift when he confirms he's not stuck. "What were you doing in your liquid form anyway?" the woman questions out of curiosity. It didn't seem like the most useful form under the circumstances. Maybe he was doing some tests or something? Would explain his presense in the lab, at any rate. "Hey Rachel," Jocelyn says. "How've you been?" the somewhat isolated teen says. She grabs herself a seat near one of the computers. The woman's outfit is taken note of. It was a different look for Rachel, but the woman doesn't comment on it for now. Rachel can't quite help herself, she's not ignoring Jocelyn, but her eyes keep going back to Shift in a kind of disturbed fascination as he pulls himself back into his usual form. She knew she shouldn't have agreed to watch Kitty's Star Trek DVDs with her. "You should have told me what you were doing." Rachel says with a bit of a smirk. "Then I might not have come at all." She is, of course, joking. "Good." She echoes Jocelyn, and glances over at the other woman in amusement, letting her finish before she chimes in again. "And what do you mean 'this time'?" She asks, "Has that happened before?" These are important things that she thinks she should know! Still, Jocelyn's presence reminds Rachel of how little she's seen of her since Genosha, so Shift's saved from the full interrogation. "Pretty good." She replies easily, before adding. "Overall. Where've you been hiding?" "Oh, just... practicing." Kwabena continues with the scratching, now at the back of his head. Which, to those who really know him, is a bit of a tell. He's feeling awkward about it. Which is part of why he wanted Rachel to see it. You know, asking someone on dates, that funny weird time between 'we have gone on dates' and 'are we a couple'... he sort of wanted to be in a safe place the first time she saw him in liquid state. Regardless, its still awkward as hell. Rachel gets a rueful look. "I just like knowing that I can still put de sahprise on a telepath." There's a break before he grows a bit more serious. "Yeah... it's happened before." There's a somewhat awkward pause, one he quickly fills with more dialogue. "Usually undah not de prettiest circumstances." Now, when Rachel asks where Jocelyn has been hiding, Kwabena fires the tall girl from Detroit a curious look. In fact, he goes so far as to cross his arms, cocking an eyebrow in an expectant way. "Oh, I've been practicing as well. During Genosha and the Harbingers appearance, my abilities altered a bit, if you remember right. I've been spending a bunch of time trying to perfect them and adjust to having a different level of power. I'd rather not black out a city block when I meant to drain the remote's battery or something like that," Jocelyn explains with a shrug. "Haven't really gotten into anything all that exciting, honestly". There's a pause from Jocelyn. "Well, aside from that weird thing with ancient warriors showing up in Metropolis, but that's almost normal these days," the woman adds. Because, well, it was. "How about you two? I haven't seen much of anyone lately, between practice and classes". College, not high school, finally. Rachel's not learned all of Kwabena's tells just yet, but then she doesn't need to. She's a telepath. She can cheat. And right now she's feeling a sudden surge of unease from Kwabena, without even really trying to read him. A faint frown settles across her features as she watches him, it taking a few seconds to sink in that he's in some way bothered by this particular state-change. And that her teasing him over it probably isn't helping. Rachel smiles back at the rueful look she gets, but there's that odd glint of satisfaction in her eyes again. "Surprises are good." She tells him, ignoring the fact that's not always been true. Impulsively, she slides down from her perch and walks over to him, halting in front of him and tilting her head to one side, before reaching out and poking him in the arm with a finger. "Feels like you made it back OK this time." She tells him with a private smirk, before turning back to Jocelyn - incidentally giving Kwabena a decent view of that tattoo on her back. She shakes her head in mock-despair. "Everyone's practicing. I feel like I'm slacking off." Jocelyn gets a quizzical look when she glosses over the goings on in Metropolis, which sounds a lot more interesting than she's implying, but Jocelyn's counter-question distracts her from asking about it. Oddly, Rachel doesn't answer at once, but looks over her shoulder at Kwabena first, then looks back at Jocelyn and grins. "I got introduced to roller coasters and live music. It was great!" "It seems a lot of peopah were pushed to dere limits." Kwabena studies Jocelyn for a few moments, considering. He'd certainly been pushed to his, perhaps beyond. There was a moment where he wondered if he'd ever settle back into flesh and blood, and in fact, aside from using Magneto's fancy weapon to fire his shoulder at one of Darkseid's spaceships... he hasn't embraced his most powerful matter state since. He doesn't like it. He doesn't trust it. He's not sure he can control it, and he hasn't even embraced it inside the perceived safety of the Danger Room. It seems he's handled discovering his limits in a much different way than Jocelyn. Then again, there have been some pleasant distractions! Cue Rachel Summers. When she comes over to poke him in the shoulder, his smirk grows lopsided. He considers for a moment letter her finger just go through his arm, but that would be mean. So, he intentionally wobbles backward for a moment, before swaying back forward on his feet. "Yep. Solid as a rock." Now, once Rachel has turned her back, his eyebrow gets another rise when he catches sight of her tattoos. "Yeah," he adds, looking past Rachel toward Jocelyn and biting down any remark he might have made about the ink. "She actually agreed to go on a date with me. I made sure to keep her far away from de hood." He looks back toward Rachel and says, "Now dat we've survived rock 'n roll, I figure de next best thing is a crazy night getting sloshed on whiskey with de hipsters of de Lower East. Because if you can survive dose pretentious assholes, you can survive anything." Jocelyn smiles at Shift. "Well then, good to hear that," the woman responds to Shift, though she does turn to include Rachel in that statement as well. Because, well, it was a joint thing after all! "And no. Take her to Nebraska if you want to go on a survival date. Trust me, you visit Nebraska and come out with your sanity, you've got it made". Jocelyn smiles to herself at that comment. Rachel's look doesn't go unnoticed. "Seriously, some warriors showed up, but all the big heroic guns were around. Not much for a mutant to do but help with the healing when you've got Wonder Woman, a couple Kryptonians, and some others dealing with the main problems, you know? Besides, it kept me out of sight for the most part". Which was perfectly fine by Jocelyn. She then returns to the bit about the limit pushing. "Yeah. I'm doing alright now. Figured out where my new limits are and how to not explode by mistake. That's generally something I find helpful". Jocleyn shrugs a little at that. It was just normal life for her as a mutant now, she figured. A slight bit of tension had crept into Rachel's shoulders while she waited for Shift to pick up on the end of her words, but once he admits to taking her out on a date, it vanishes. It'd hardly been a secret - especially after the banter in the medlab - but somehow having him confirm that it /was/ a date to someone else was necessary to Rachel. She snorts when he mentions 'the hood'. "Only because you'd taken me there already." She reminds him, tempted to reach back with an elbow and give him a nudge, but not feeling quite that childish. Yet. She rolls her eyes at his suggestion for Date Number Two, though she's not put out. "You really want to get a telepath that drunk? I won't be able to keep my mind to myself." She tells him, then Jocelyn gets a second curious look. "Nebraska?" She asks, but by then the other woman is picking up on her /last/ unasked question. Rachel looks impressed by the story, even as Jocelyn minimises her role in it. "I'm glad you didn't get caught in the crossfire." Rachel sighs, a bit theatrically, when Jocelyn talks about her training. "That's it. Next Danger Room session, bring me along." She says, before smirking and adding. "Even if I say I'm hung over." "Nebraska." Kwabena echoes the word with a certain melodramatic disgust. After all, he'd been to Smallville recently, though for very important reasons he's not talking about his experience there. "Been to Kansas. I think I've had enough of de midwest for a long time." "That..." He turns his attention to Rachel with an index finger raised in the air. "Was not a date. It was a job." Of course, when she hints at what might happen when a telepath gets drunk, an absolutely mischievous expression creeps into his face. Most of all his eyes. It's a sort of smirk no one should ever hope to see, ever. Back to Jocelyn he looks. "Exploding? You nevah know, Detroit. I can think of some few instances." Not only are explosions useful, they're fun. The sentiment is pretty clear in Kwabena's tone of voice. This from the guy who occasionally lights up a molotov cocktail. When was the last time he lit up a molotov cocktail, anyway? He's having a difficult time remember, and that brings a brief expression of internalizing, paired with a sort of whimsical frown. Like remembering a childhood Christmas present one was fond of, and recently had to sell in order to pay rent. "Getting in de crossfire is my job," he reminds them both. Partly sarcastic, partly serious. And he's still saying nothing at all about getting Rachel drunk, or Rachel being hung over. Nothing. At. All. Nope. "We can take turns getting caught in the crossfire," Jocelyn responds to Kwabena with a smile. Also partly serious, partly sarcastic. It came with the job, and she knew there were times she had to take the hits. "And explosions can be useful. But they're less useful when you're the epicenter of the explosion and it knocks you out. Just sayin' I'm not interested in a repeat of when I blew up and Thor had to keep me from falling out of the sky". And she maybe was a little close to frying their plane, but she'd rather not think about that. The comment about Nebraska just gets a serious nod from Jocelyn. "Nebraska". Could they be messing with Rachel? After all, it was hard for most to mess with a telepath. "And it's a deal. I'll grab you tomorrow then," the woman tells Rachel. "Hung over or not. Would give me a chance to find out if I can heal a hangover or not with my powers," Jocelyn comments with a grin. "That would prove useful". With some of these folks? Oh yes. Rachel studiously avoids looking over her shoulder so that she doesn't see the mischievous look that she can /feel/ Shift is wearing. If she doesn't acknowledge it she doesn't have to deal with it, and she has a feeling that talking him out of experiencing what she's just warned him about is going to be an uphill struggle at best. "Uh huh." Is all she says, in reference to her visit to that old crack den not having been a 'date'. Rachel shakes her head and winces when the discussion turns to the benefits of exploding and whose turn it is to be in the crossfire. "This is where you're going wrong." She tells the other two, more to try to keep the conversation light than anything else. "You're supposed to stay /out/ of the crossfire, not take turns." She smirks at Jocelyn. "And exploding is for emergencies only." Nebraska, or being boozed into oblivion? Rachel resists the urge to roll her eyes again. She's not going to get out of /one/ of those things, that much is clear. Rachel laughs as Jocelyn agrees with her. "I wasn't thinking of getting drunk /tonight/!" She says, shooting a glance back at Kwabena in the probably vain hope he's listening. "But that sounds great. Between the two of you, I'm thinking I could use the practice." A short wince is given when Jocelyn explains the downside to exploding. "See, I don't explode. I burn. And it makes me hungry as hell." Now, you see... Jocelyn is not doing Rachel any favors; especially when she provides a clear out for Hungover Rachel ™. Kwabena's smugness remains while a few little mental notes are made. "Practice with what?" he asks, specifically. Then, he walks over to join Rachel, reaching to casually draw an arm around her shoulder. "De dangah room, or de whiskey? Oh, you meant de camping." "Ugh, camping. Last time camping was involved, we ran into the Wendigo. Run into it twice. Don't really like the idea of trying to fight whoever it's posessing a third time if it ever shows up again," Jocelyn responds with a shake of her head. The infamous Young X-Men Camping Trip of Doom is firm in her memory. "And I get hungry as hell too, though not as much as you. Run all that energy through you and it'll leave you with a bit of a charge," the woman tells him. "Anyway, I'll catch you two later. I've got a couple appointments to keep, and a bit of homework to actually consider doing". And with that, Jocelyn will head off. Jocelyn has left. Rachel's still not acknowledging the smugness. Maybe if she ignores it, it'll go away...? As Shift's arm slides around her shoulder, Rachel leans back a bit, towards him - and finally gives into the urge to give him a light jab with her elbow. "I did /not/ mean the camping." She says, firmly, before her voice turns rueful. "But I get the feeling 'all of the above' is right answer." Rachel can't help herself when Jocelyn complains about her last camping trip. She laughs. "You have the worst luck." She tells her. Yes, the refugee from the hellish future just said that to Jocelyn, about a camping trip. Go figure. "See you in the morning!" Rachel calls as Jocelyn heads off, diplomatically not mentioning the homework. Once the other woman has left, Rachel turns around to face Kwabena, reaching out to drape her arms loosely around his neck and looking up at him. "All right. I think I can guess why you asked me down here. You were worried I'd have a problem with your..." Rachel can't find an elegant way to describe it. "Goo-state, right?" She looks him in the eye, and the telepathic illusion cloaking her Hound marks vanishes. "I don't." She tells him simply. Kwabena cocks an eyebrow at Jocelyn's story. She certainly manages to find herself in no shortage of trouble! "You haven't really lived until you roast fresh tiger meat ovah a fire in de wilderness of Ghana," he points out. "Take care of yourself, Detroit." With Rachel's turn, Kwabena easily lowers his arms, curling them around her waist and holding her with a certain firm softness that betrays his fondness for her. The term she uses? Draws a grin. "Just wanted you to know how flexible I am," he quips, though behind the sarcasm is an expression of openness. He did want Rachel to learn more about him, after all. He doesn't, however, expect for her answer to be coupled by the disappearance of her illusion. Kwabena's face tilts forward a bit more, the smugness fading. His eyes stray from here for a moment, observing the marks. One hand comes free, rising to let a gloved finger trace one of those marks. In his eyes, there is a touch of sadness -- for what she went through and what those marks mean -- along with a satisfaction that she's not only opening up more, but learning to accept her past for what it was, at least around him. That touch turns into a motion to gently take her cheek in hand, guiding her into a kiss. "So, what do you say?" he asks quietly. "You, me, de Lowah East and crashing it out at a cheap hostel?" Despite Kwabena's flippant response, Rachel knows that her guess was on the money. But if he's going to joke about it, that makes it fair game for her to joke back. "As long as you don't sleep in a bucket, great." She tells him, Kitty's DVDs to blame again for that image. As for the appearance of her true face? That's something that had been preying on her mind for a while, the mask she's accustomed to wearing having become uncomfortable around the man who's shared so much of his past - and present - with her so freely. It's a reminder of how much she's still hiding from him. Today just forced her hand, a little earlier than she'd intended. She's fine with that. Mostly. Her eyes remain locked on his as she watches his reaction, looking for something that's not there, and she relaxes a little when she doesn't find it. And though she tenses up when he reaches out for her face, she doesn't flinch away, and after a moment the tension eases. She can't hide a little surprise when he draws her into a kiss - but she doesn't resist, and with the kiss the irrational shame she feels at having the marks on show is broken and dissolves. It'll return, it always does, but for now it's forgotten. And she's grateful. As she draws back, her eyes are a little wide, but she smirks wryly at his question. "How cheap?" She asks, already having made up her mind. "I've gotten used to beds that don't bite back!" Shift? Sleep in a bucket? Never! "Only on Tuesdays," he quips. Kwabena noticed all of those changes. It's telling, and above all else, he's glad that she trusts him. His hand snakes back down around her waist, and... and... is he flexing his arms? The high tech skin suit doesn't hide much! Yeah, he's flexing. "Rachel Summers. Haven't you learned to trust me? Don't worry, de beds don't bite. De whiskey does." Finally releasing her, he motions toward the computers. "Let me clean up here and find something to wear. See you in half an hour?" "I've learned to trust you... to get into trouble." Rachel smiles impishly up at him. "And now you're trying to get /me/ into trouble." And yet, she's not saying no. She laughs as he warns her about the whiskey, and shakes her head. "Remind me why I'm doing this again?" She asks herself more than him, but when he gives her that ridiculous deadline... Rachel folds her arms, tilts her head to one side, and raises a distinctly dubious eyebrow. "Half an hour? I'm supposed to get ready and find something to wear in /half/ an /hour/?" She asks in mock-exasperation, before shaking her head and glancing at the ceiling as if in supplication. She's on the point of complaining more, but changes her mind. "Don't expect miracles!" She calls to him over her shoulder as she spins around and walks swiftly to the door, her strides stretching her long black skirt. Pausing in the doorway, one hand on the frame, she looks back, narrows her eyes, and grins. "Got it." She declares, and then vanishes into the corridor. "And I get out if it well," answers Kwabena. "I'll teach you how." Releasing her, he takes a step back and laughs out loud at her response to such a deadline. "Hey! You could wink your eye and be dressed up as whatevah you want!" He stands back and watches as she makes for the door, but the pause brings a raised eyebrow. Heels are involved. Definitely heels. Vicious ones. The skirt is damned near scandalous, and the top leaves enough skin to let that tattoo show. Given it's cold, she'll have to come up with the appropriate jacket and legwear herself, but he knows the moment she turns to face him that she's skimmed it. And he just grins. Lets see if Rachel Summers is up to THAT challenge. And... let's see if Kwabena Odame makes it out of this alive. Category:Log